You know you're addicted to humans when
by hummergrey
Summary: Ch 6 - Toy figures and a black armored warrior. Transformers guard and protect humans but what happens when they become addicted to them? Or their ways? Join the fun as they learn and exist. Normal canon pairings. Movie verse and G1. No Horror / No Gore
1. Chapter 1 Food and flying

Author's Notes: Yes, another fun series with good clean humor and general storylines. Human centric with Transformers of all types and identities appearing, even Decepticons. Movie verse with G1 cartoon characters appearing. Mirage was silver with blue and black trim from G1.

This is per reader requests to break out the general list from my main fic _If an Autobot do Not do the following pt 2. _Not all the numbers will be made into stories but most. Please set "**add story to story alert**" or "**Author Alert"** to stay up with updates, as they will be sporadic.

::Means internal comms between specific mechs. Not heard by humans or other Transformers:: Name of sender is always encoded on the end.

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_**You know you're addicted to humans when:**_

_**1. Your spare leg carry panel contains bottled water, three types of snack bars, a bag of chips, and two of Annabelle's toys. Unless you are Ironhide and it's all toys on the right side, healthy food and water on the left.**_

_**2. You worry about Sarah Lennox finding out about the driving lesson, high speed ride or race with Annabelle. *Mechs and femmes not named here to ensure their continued existence.**_

_**3. You have ever looked the other way with what they eat and not said a word. *Hound, Arcee, Chromia, and never let Ratchet catch you giving them that food.**_

Bumblebee, youngest and smallest of the Autobot scouts roved the entire area with his enhanced sensors, ensuring the way was clear. The NEST military base at Diego Garcia was quiet at nearly 1 am in the morning, the tropical night breeze rustling the palm tree leaves and the only sounds the exchange of human guards on patrol as they greeted one another. Sensitive alien hearing detected their breathing even as they were nearly a mile away. The yellow mini bot crept forward, his massive metal frame silent as he strode across the cement pavement.

"Where are you going?" A mech voice's spoke out of the air.

::Mirage! Do not scare me like that !:: Bumblebee twitched, nearly dropping the flat cardboard boxes he held on one yellowed metal palm. Battle protocols went on standby as the rush of energon eased in his systems. ::Going to give a bot a spark attack if you keep doing that::

"It is in my programming to use stealth. Keeps the rest of you alert," the stately tall blue and silver mech reminded as he literally materialized out of thin air. Nearly five times his height, the older aristocratic spy towered over Bumblebee. "And what are you carrying?"

::Pizza for Sam and Mikeala. Kitchen staff keeps them frozen and I use my fusion cannon at its charging test level to heat them in about two minutes to ready:: Bumblebee

"At this late hour?" Mirage raised a silver optic's arch.

::Treat for them. Spent the day in meeting with human officials. Both are in recharge while Wheelie guards. They will wake soon and be hungry before slipping back into recharge:: Bumblebee shrugged human style.

"And pizza is on Ratchet's approved intake list for young developing humans?"

::Yes, in moderation:: Bumblebee's optics spun tightly and angled down to the right rather than meet his optics.

"Hmm, good recharge then. Safe journeys to you," he raised a black armored hand in half salute. He watched the young mech peer around the building corner, his blue optics confirming what his scanners identified before disappearing out of sight.

"It's safe now," Mirage turned his head as Annabelle climbed up onto his right shoulder. She leaned her upper body forward over his black shoulder cap and grinned at him.

"Can we get my ice cream now?"

"Sure, but remember to be quiet. They can't see us but they can hear us," he reminded, moving soundlessly forward on spread out feet pads.

"Okay," she said, pulling herself up to sit on his flat black shoulder plating. The air shimmered around them as they disappeared from all known sights and sensors within his cloaking field. She giggled, clapping both hands over her mouth to hide the sound. The field made everything appear wavy as they snuck across base to the kitchen area. Mirage reached down, popping a hatch in his upper leg, handing her the goody basket. Smiling, the little girl grabbed it, practically drooling over the jars of caramel and hot fudge topping, whipped cream can, bag of peanuts and jar of maraschino cherries inside it. "I wish Ironhide was here."

"He is released from Med bay tomorrow little one and ssshhh," he put one black armored finger to his silver lips. The human soldiers never reacted as he stepped over them and around to the building's side. A digital command and the Autobot size door rolled up. "Keep this our secret?"

"I like secrets. And ice cream, and kittens, and sunsets....." Annabelle continued her list even through the ice cream but Mirage did not mind. He was more comfortable with the little girl than most his fellow warriors. He almost envied Ironhide being her guardian, almost. That ended when they went for a moonlight race around the lagoon and she barfed up across his dash from motion sickness.

_**4. Medically scan a human every time they cough or sneeze to make sure they are not getting sick. **_

_**5. Medically scan them even when they don't sneeze or cough. *Bumblebee and Ratchet.**_

Silverbolt vented softly, transforming out of his Hercules Jet mode into his bi pedal mode on the base runway. He grinned down at the smaller mechs that had just unloaded out of his cargo hold. Ironhide grumbled, twisting out his left leg, grimacing at the twinge in his hip cogs. He turned, frowning even deeper as Arcee roared into view, slinging low over the pavement as her motorcycle alt mode swung out and around a military transport. The small shape on her rider's seat cheered in her high-pitched voice and he covered his faceplates with his black armored hands.

::Arcee! How many slagging times have I told you not to give ANNABELLE A RIDE!:: Ironhide's volume increased until his mental voice was roaring.

::Don't remember, must be getting old like you or deaf if you are that loud:: Arcee retorted, slowing and sliding to a stop directly in front of him. Annabelle waved, dressed in her white and red jumpsuit, complete with triple padded helmet and internal speakers. She climbed off the idling motorcycle, running up to her guardian. "Oh can I go flying? Please? It looks like so much fun and I would be safe with one of you please?" she begged, standing on the top of Ironhide's footpad. He medically scanned her, ensuring she was as healthy as she appeared.

"Flying is not fun," Sam commented sourly. "You are trapped in a small place with lots of sweaty soldiers and their gear." Bumblebee played a laughing sound, pretending to grab Sam and fold him up into a small box.

"Uh huh!" the little girl shook her head side to side, her blond ponytail swinging with the motion. "I can fly and jump and fall but Ironhide or Optimus would catch me and that's why they make piera...uh, poura..."

"Parachutes?" Ironhide said.

"Yah, that's the word," she grinned.

The ancient warrior mech pictured her jumping out with a parachute and his spark nearly jumped in its spark spires.

Silverbolt snickered, hearing him vent rapidly. "Jumping in tandem youngling would be allowable. You are too small to do it alone. But strapped to another, that would be a learning experience," he offered, lowering his booming voice for her gentle hearing. "I lead the Aerialbots and we would be honored to fly escort with the young miss."

Ironhide growled, rolling his cannons and pointing them up.

"Stand down soldier," Optimus ordered in his best commanders' tone. He tapped one set of footpads, folding his arms and trying to look authorative while a smile tweaked the edge of his lip plates.

"Prime, they want Annabelle to jump out of a plane strapped to someone else!"

"They would never put her in danger," he reminded.

"And if it was Sam?" he countered. Optimus optics blazed as his systems ran scenarios before he kneeled by the boy and his yellow guardian.

"Have you ever jumped from an airplane Sam?"

"Me?" the boy squeaked. Instinctively, he backed up to brace against Bumblebee's armored yellow leg.

::No! Too dangerous. I have not jumped out a plane either! No need to:: Bumblebee scanned hsi charge, detecting all the signs of near panic. Rapid heartbeat, increased respiraiton and sweaty palms.

"You hot comet landed on earth," Optimus reminded.

::I did but I uh, went into temporary stasis before I actually hit:: Bumblebee admitted, looking sheepish as his systems increased while remembering the moment before impact.

"Then it would be a learning experience," Optimus agreed.

Two days later Major Will Lennox checked his parachute straps for the thirty-fourth time as his daughter wiggled, anxious to jump out as the ramp descended. He patted her head then began walking forward down the center of Silverbolt's hold. The air whistled blocking any communication, he gave her thumbs up and she held out both hands thumbs up, unable to turn and look up at him against the straps binding them together.

Will turned, hearing a high-pitched yelling and grinned at Sam's wide-eyed face as Sideswipe rolled forward, the boy strapped securely to him with Cybertron made straps and buckles. Behind them, he could see a wiggling Bumblebee strapped to Ironhide black chest plates, his optics wide and spinning rapidly.

"Time to go!" He yelled, knowing the alien hearing would catch his words. He never knew who screamed louder, his daughter with delight or Sam in fear. From the way the Autobots winced, he guessed Bumblebee did his share of protesting over their internal comm.


	2. Chapter 2 Blasters, swords and stances

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Not all of these will feature Annabelle though she is a favorite of the Transformers. Sam, Mikeala and Wheelie will appear as well as Maggie, Miles and Leo. Even Sam's parents. Stay tuned. GMC is dropping the solstice design, the movie verse Jazz alt mode so he trans scanned a racecar from a car show to his G1 version.

::Means internal comms between specific mechs. Not heard by humans or other Transformers:: Name of sender is always encoded on the end. And I do use spell check with Word and the spell check function on ff net but something always slips through.

TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TR TRANSFORMERS

_**You know you're addicted to humans when:**_

_**6. You have lived on earth eight years and have more memory core space devoted to those experiences that two vorns on Cybertron. **_

The human safety inspector wrote down more entries to the ire of Major Lennox. "This may be a military base but it need not have the dangers of the battlefield. And I do not understand these submitted expenses from last quarter," he flipped the pages of his clipboard, scanning the highlighted lines. "Two tons of dirt to fill a crater resulting from a hand grenade. I mean really, one hand grenade? They do not make craters that large," he scoffed. His dark sunglasses reflected the sunlight as they walked across Diego Garcia's airfield.

"A Cybertronian hand grenade does during simulated combat practice," the military officer explained, leaving out the detail the Transformers had been rough housing. He remembered Ironhide wrestling with Prime when a side hatch triggered on the ancient warrior, releasing the deadly device out. In the scuffling, nether noticed until it primed, too fast to throw it clear.'

"I saw no report of injuries from any explosion that large," the official tapped his report.

"There were none. Trailbreaker encased them and the nearby soldiers in a force field. The pavement was not so lucky," Will explained.

"Why not cover the grenade?"

"They were between him and the grenade. His protocols chose to protect the living in the split second he had to choose."

"This entry then," the man stopped, hearing high revving engines moving closer. He opened his mouth to ask when red and yellow Lamborghinis raced by swirling dust and debris in their wake. "Tell me those luxury cars are not part of your budget?"

"They're not. Those were Transformers, noticed no driver?" Will stated, mentally promising to track the twins down and chain them to the ceiling by their feet pads to use as a red and yellow pinata.

"Where was I? Ahh yes. This entry for seventeen new lab research doors. How do you lose a door let alone seventeen of them?"

"Easy. You embed it in an airfield, send it up into space with a null gravity ray, melt it, blow it apart, teleport it out at the molecular level for starters. Wheeljack is quite creative when it comes to lab conditions," he explained.

"Lose my mind if I dealt with that on a monthly basis," the man muttered while scribbling notes.

"You might want to keep comments like that to yourself. Their alien hearing is very sensitive," Will advised. "And their understanding of English tends to be literal. Their minds are processor and memory cores that can be physically lost or misplaced. The first time they heard that phrase they took it literal. Bumblebee dragged Sam to Ratchet for medical help for 'losing his mind.' Took over an hour to get him released from their care. They do not understand our humor or use of a double meaning in a phrase."

"Hmm, is that why their quarters and all nearby buildings require extensive sound proofing? Keep them from hearing us?" he asked.

"Yes sir. Generally, they find us boring and overly talkative. Their communication is through energy patterns, internal comms to specific other mechs or femmes and wavelengths we are not even capable of detecting. Our continual talking is annoying at best," Will explained, opening the human size door to the main hangar. He kept quiet about the sound shielding keeping humans from hearing the Transformers activities.

They paused inside the hangar, watching Optimus reversing in his alt mode before transforming. Parts slid, flipped and changed to form his twenty-eight foot plus red and blue flamed bi pedal mode. "Greetings Major Lennox. Was your meeting successful?" he asked turning, hydraulics hissing as his transform completed.

"Went great," he answered. "I am finishing the safety inspection and will be right there."

Jazz in his race car alt mode slid in through the hangar doors, stopping to let Sam out. Laughing, the youth waved to Lennox and Optimus.

"You should wear your seat belt and observe safety rules young man," the official began. "You need, uhm...that is..." he trailed off as Jazz transformed right in front of him.

"Lay off man, kid is safe with me," he quipped even as his head rotated out of his engine block and formed into place.

"Accidents happen, often fatal ones that are unforeseen and unplanned. You don't come back from the dead," the official stated.

"The Matrix of leadership revived me," Jazz quipped, spinning on his feet pads and jiving. His armored hand traced a thin weld line across his lower abdomen plate. "Got tore in half and Ratchet patched me good."

"I too was offlined and revived, though we state it as back from the matrix," Optimus stated in his regal baritone, placing one silver armored hand above his spark.

"I died too," Sam shrugged. "Spent two weeks healing from my return but hey, I was alive."

The man gaped. "What the heck are you people? Some type of cult? That is it. I am leaving before I die and come back. Got enough trouble living this life," he stomped towards the door as Sam and Optimus looked at each other, baffled by his harsh attitude.

"Have a nice life," Will called, chuckling.

_**7. Your earth music collection is larger than your message cipher database encryptions. **_

_**8. You automatically say good morning, good night, sweet dreams and ask 'how are you doing?" audios tuned to the answer. **_

Ironhide rolled in and transformed, standing next to Chromia. The early morning sun shone brightly over the course, shadows shortening as it rose overhead. The onshore tropical breeze fluttered the distance flags the human snipers used. His systems tracked their movements, the speed of the air and every sound including the soft breathing of a human girl in hiding. The black mech's optics scanned the surrounding area. "Annabelle? Are you here?" He called, pretending to look everywhere but where she was.

"Here I am," the little blonde girl popped out from behind a safety wall. "Can I shoot the targets?"

"Good morning Annabelle and I taught you better than that," Ironhide admonished.

"May I please shoot them sir?"

Yes. Manners are so overlooked by humans," he vented. A side chest panel slid out, revealing stacked weaponry inside. "Have to unlock two for human use then you can fire them. Remember all the safeties I taught you? One mistake and no watching let alone firing youngling."

"Yes Ironhide."

Targets fell with astonishing accuracy, guided by alien scopes and the guidance of her mentor with thousands of years of teaching weapons. Ironhide and Chromia took their turns, ricocheting and doing trick shots for her amusement. They never mentioned those shots reached targets not seen yet deadly when they fired. Snipers were not a lesson they wanted her to learn about yet. The mid day buzzer sounded and she sighed, her arm muscles tired and warm.

"You did good," he grunted as Chromia formed a smile on her lip plates.

"As though you were our own sparkling," the blue armored femme commented. "Time for lunch with your dad. See you tonight in the recreation room for popcorn and a movie?"

Sure!" the little girl cheered, hopping on the offered black armored hand. At lunch, her father enjoyed her presence even as he listened to his men and their conversations about the latest intelligence gathering. Normally she would have been interrupting and full of energy instead of eating but he was too busy to notice. He handed her to Ratchet for her afternoon nap and kissed her forehead softly, glad she did not protest.

"I have meetings all afternoon. You stay with the Transformers and listen to them honey. They will keep you safe," he said.

"I will daddy. I like them," she yawned, feeling tired. Ratchet scanned her detecting post exercise tiredness but no physical maladies. He carried her to the the med bay, letting her nap on the nearest recharge berth. A distant emergency call had him running from med bay and yelling for Sideswipe.

::Watch Annabelle in med bay:: Ratchet

::Why me?:: Sideswipe

::Because you are on the inactive list until I rebuild your leg and she needs guarding. You are our best swordsman:: Ratchet

::Pit yes. She will be safe:: Sideswipe agreed, hobbling towards the building. 'One attempt at jet judo and my leg buckles on landing. Not fair but then I did not crash nose first like that Decepticon. Or bounce and tear off a wing either,' he processed smirking. An hour later, he watched her wake up, rubbing at her eyes.

"Good afternoon Annabelle," he greeted her. "How are you?"

"My arms are sore," she complained, rubbing at them.

"They need stretching and moving to warm up the energon in them, err blood," he stumbled over the term. "Do you know how to handle a sword?"

"No, not really. I play pirate with Michelle and Sarah at school on the playground. We have a wood boat where we climb the ropes on and run from the ramp to fort."

He confirmed no other Transformers were nearby before sealing the med bay doors. Reaching into subspace, he removed a small rectangular box. Opening it, he pulled out an energon sword made for her exact size.

"For me?" she gasped and squealed.

"Made it myself. Blasters are crude and any thick-chipped mech can fire them, even Starscream. He carries them on both arms but a good sword slice removes them," Sideswipe stated, pulling his sword from subspace.

"The blasters?"

"His arms," he winked an optic at her. "Now, hold it loosely like this." He demonstrated on his own sword. "Too tight and it will not swing or move. Think of liquid flowing, like fresh charged energon. It runs here and there, slowly and steadily. Your movements are a weaving pattern of movement and not chopping or poking and hoping you hit the target." He began teaching her, more a way to keep her busy and warm her muscles. It became a lesson for real as she adapted quickly. He taught her for over an hour before his twin signaled.

::Doors locked? What are you doing? Stealing Ratchet's high grade?:: Sunstreaker

::Teaching Annabelle swordplay:: Sideswipe released the door locks.

::Well, stop it already. The teams are inbound and you know how the others feel about her learning weapons:: Sunstreaker sent, walking into the room in his bi pedal mode. The swords returned to subspace. They escorted Annabelle to the main hanger and away from med bay and the airfield as the injured bots landed for treatment. She spent the afternoon watching cartoons and resting among the returning soldiers as they ate and continued their afternoon duties.

She leaned on the break room window, watching the setting sun as the last soldier left. Heavy treads sounded, causing her to grin as she recognized them. The cell phone was whipped out of her pocket and activated.

::Good evening Annabelle:: Bumblebee texted onto her phone as he appeared in the room.

"Hi Bee!" she waved. "I practiced firing with Ironhide and held a sword with Sideswipe. They both say I learned fast."

::This is important. Weapons jam, misfire or taken from you:: Bumblebee texted while hiding the fact they could be turned to fire or slice her. His processor shuddered from creating those images. ::You need to know how to move and use your own body to fight::

"How long will that take to learn?" she asked.

::A lifetime to master but I can teach you basics now. Ironhide can teach the advanced later:: Bumblebee sent, moving one foot pad a step forward, bending his leg at the midpoint, raising one arm to in front of his forehead plate.

She copied the movement, her blond ponytail swinging across her back.

::Keep your arm level and away a little more, wrist turned out as though to grab it later. Forces hit it and knock it into your head if too close:: he instructed, nodding his approval. She shifted her arm into perfect position. He knelt, showing her how it could block a weapon or attack aimed at her vulnerable head or eyes from above.

::Now move down the hallway, one step at a time returning your hand to your hip then snap it up into position, correctly. You must react to the attack from a normal position:: Bumblebee admonished as her arm angled down, leaving her face uncovered.

He showed her two more arm blocks, three types of strikes then quit, his advanced sensors detecting her hunger and tiredness. ::Rest, you have earned it. You are a good student:: Bumblebee encouraged. He hugged her tiny body with one yellow armored hand carefully as his lower leg hatch opened with a hiss, a puff of ice-cold moisture condensing in the air.

"Ice cream!" the little girl squealed, recognizing the wrapped cone shapes inside. Her blue eyes practically glowed when he handed her one for each hand.

::Sam likes them too:: Bumblebee texted as an all Autobot call signal flashed across his optics.

::Anyone seen Annabelle? Or have her with you? She is missing:: Ironhide sent, the faintest note of concern in his internal transmission.

::With me, heading for the recreation room:: Bumblebee sent.

::She was supposed to be there already watching cartoons with the twins slag it:: Ironhide

::Wanted ice cream. Hard to tell her no:: Bumblebee covered, lifting her to his shoulder. Laser restraints held her firmly in place as she ate.

The walk across base was short and easy for them both. Joining the others in the recreation room, she slid onto the couch next to her dad and Ironhide. The movie Iron Giant began and everyone quieted. Ten minutes later, he noticed his daughter fast asleep on her pillow.

"Kids tire out quickly," Will said. "Should have the day we had."


	3. Chapter 3 Family visits

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Monique Epps, wife of Master Sergeant Epps is ROTF canon. Director Michael Bay cut her scene out of the final production of the ROTF film but she is in the book version pg 242 – 250 and mentions their kids. Here, only she is referenced. And I could write out specifics but details are not my strongest writing skill.

::Means internal comms between specific mechs. Not heard by humans or other Transformers:: Name of sender is always encoded on the end. And I do use spell check with Word and the spell check function on ff net but something always slips through. Onward to dealing with aliens and family.

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_**You know you're addicted to humans when:**_

_**9. Set your internal chronometer to remind for breakfast, break, lunch, dinner and bedtime for Sam, Mikeala and Annabelle or any other human you are around. **_

_**10. You use every excuse to drive your human around, even short distances or while on base.**_

_**11. You have specially altered your interior to fit human riders. *Bumblebee and Ironhide.**_

_**12. The feel of human feet on your floorboards races your engine. *Medical addendum – See Ratchet immediately for coding repair. Autobots do not have fetishes, feet included.**_

_**13. You map a travel route paying more attention to rest stops, coffee shops and hotels than possible ambush points, ground cover and places to make an armed stand against superior forces. **_

Master Sergeant Epps climbed out of the small green car from the passenger side. Lawn sprinklers whisked across the yards of the houses lining the residential neighborhood as faint laughing of children and the squeak of bicycle wheels carried on the air. The soldier stood to his full height, the fatigues a little wrinkled from the long ride but clean and bearing the patches of NEST. Breathing deeply of the flowery scented air, he nodded to his neighbor across the street. The old man ignored his greeting, continuing to amble towards the front door with the newspaper in hand. "Nice neighborhood the wife says, yah right. Snobs who don't appreciate the freedoms we give them through blood and precious metal."

An excited feminine squealing had him dropping his duffel bag and opening both arms out wide. He grunted, stumbling backwards with the impact of his young wife. He chuckled while breathing in the smell of her perfume.

"I missed you," she purred, kissing him deeply. The car they leaned against shifted slightly. Epps patted it, moving them away as the driver appeared out of thin air. The car backed into his driveway and parked, the revving engine going quiet before the driver disappeared into a thousand shimmering lights. She blinked and tightened her grip on her husband. "Is that?"

"Yes Monique," he whispered back as quietly. "A Transformer. One of the good guys, Hey!" he yelled, rubbing at his shoulder that she punched then stepped back. She glared with both hands on her narrow hips as her black skin shone in the sunlight.

"I hardly expect you to bring home a bad guy sweetie," she said sarcastically. "Least be courteous and invite it in."

"His," Epps stressed the 'his' to emphasize a person and not the car he seemed. "Alt mode, the car shape is too wide for the front or back door. His bi pedal mode is too tall for the doorway and we are a bit public for a super secret alien race to go walking around."

"Then we go elsewhere. Neighbors here have enough to gossip about now." Epps started to protest about just arriving and found himself and her inside of Skids rolling down the road towards the countryside minutes later, the argument dropped. He sighed, thinking of her and the private room waiting at the bed and breakfast he reserved as a surprise for that night. The surprise he had not had the time to tell her about.

His wife shifted, knees pushed up against the dash before trying to stretch upward, her arms bending at the elbows inside the narrow confines and low roof. "Who designed this disguise? Fisher price?"

"I heard that!" Skids protested, rocking back and forth on his axles s he rolled down the road. "YO! I'm made for combat not living space! Devastator got busted up real good, it don't take size for that! And you picked this back road, for a scenic view! Ain't even traffic around to keep me moving."

"And I thought my GPS was annoying," she grinned.

"Who were you expecting? Prince Charming?" Her husband asked.

"Ironheart, big black dude you're always talking about. Rough terrain vehicle with big wide seats," she reminded, tugging at her seat belt with both hands to loosen it.

"It's Ironhide and he's with Lennox for the weekend. The others were on missions. Ratchet asked that Skids escort me home while his twin finishes repairs. I hardly could refuse a command order from Will and Ratchet."

"Rank has its privileges," she muttered under her breath. They both gasped as Skids locked his brakes, sliding to the gravel roadside.

"Get out now!" He yelled, the vocal sounding all around them, springing both car doors open.

"Hey! We didn't insult," Epps began, pushing himself off the steering wheel as his wife leaned back, rubbing at both knees.

"Decepticon incoming! Get out! Or be transform jam in my gears!" Skids rocked side to side as the seat belts retracted.

"Run for cover Monique!" Epps ordered, reaching in the back seat. One grab and his sidearm pulled into his hand out of the duffel bag side pocket. Two seconds more and he was out of Skids, running around his green armored front bumper.

"You couldn't bring me one of those pea shooters? Where the heck are your big guns?" She snapped, running alongside him for the cover of the nearby trees. Behind them transform sounds began followed by heavy thumping treads as Skids followed.

"Wouldn't fit with the chocolates and teddy bears to sneak past the armory guards," he answered, looking skyward. Beside him, she gasped eyes going wide as one hand clutched his arm tightly.

"Seeker! I sent a call for backup. Others be close but da, they gotta get here," Skids held out his green armored arm before them, blue optics swiveling all directions. Roaring jet engines overhead had them all ducking, wincing.

"How many bullets you got in that gun?" Monique whispered, watching the silver jet with alien markings all over it soar in a tight circle before weaving back and forth as though searching for something.

"Clearly not enough," he answered, dropping into a crouch by the bushes as she did the same.

The jet hovered before transforming down, parts folding into the Decepticon Starscream. The mech stumbled, going down on one knee plate.

"Are those char marks?" Epps muttered, straining to see the dark streaks among his Cybertronian tattoos.

"You should recognize those," his wife hissed back. "Looks like what you grill every summer."

"He and two other seekers tangled with Prime. That why they close," Skids said.

"Which two other seekers?"

"Those two," Skids pointed up as Skywarp and Thundercracker roared into view, hovering and transforming down onto the large flat grassy areas on either side of the road. In hiding, they remained still, praying to their divinity and waiting as red optics glanced their way before moving away. The intermittent trees spread among the grass hills left them nowhere else to run without being in the wide open. The three seekers never detected them, though Skids bragged it was his ability to blend in with the environment like a ninja. Epps called it a narrow escape while Monique recorded the incident later in her diary as three metal beings acting like upset teenagers.

"This is your fault!" Starscream accused. His silver armored right hand wrapped around his other arm, the metal twisted and bent from Prime's ion rifle grazing strike. A full blast would have shattered it apart.

"Me? You said to fire! Not retreat, offer terms of surrender but fire!" Thundercracker's deeper vocal carried across the area. His dark blue and silver armor bore little damage.

"I ordered you to fire on the Autobots, not a mail truck! Your blast threw it into the oil tanker! Look at the marks on my armor!"

"With that paint job I figured it was an Autobot. Blue and white and red, like Prime or Ultra Magnus," Skywarp defended himself. His purple wing armor bore four dents in the shape on Ironhide's uniquely shaped feet pads.

"That small square size with a squishy driving?" His red optics narrowed in annoyance.

"The squishy wore shorts in cold weather! I thought it was a dumb Autobot hologram. And who is the Inspector General he screamed would be mad? Anyone we should keep an optic out for?" Thundercracker said.

"He doesn't matter and I am mad! You are twits not my trine!" Starscream's shrill vocal raised in volume.

Skids touched the humans on their shoulders, jerking his head to the right. The humans strained to see what his optics could then smiles formed on their faces as a red and blue Peterbilt semi rolled over the hill followed by a black GMC top kick and other vehicles.

"I think the fat lady is about to sing," Epps whispered to her.

"Fat seeker is more like it," Monique retorted, a delight shining in her eyes. The fight barely lasted ten minutes with the seekers fleeing among heavy weapon fire. Thundercracker fled straight up with Skywarp teleporting himself and the smoking chassis of Starscream in his arms.

"Prime wants us clear while Epps and Lennox deal with the local humans and military backup," Skids said. Monique watched him transform, climbing slowly into the mech with a new respect for the alien fighters they were.

"Is life always this exciting with you around?" she asked. Skids began telling her about the adventures on base. The ways the Autobots pulled pranks, Ironhide on the firing range with his famous cannons, even playing a mini hologram of Ratchet's favorite throwing wrench. Epps joined them later, adding his tales of combat and working with the Transformers.

By the time he finished she smiled before leaning over to kiss him once on the cheek. "Thank you then for bringing Skids with you. I'm not sure I could have handled the others. He's welcome with us," she said. The welcome lasted two days as they drove around, sightseeing. It ended when Mudflap showed up, newly released from med bay. The local paper ran the photo every year on the anniversary of the event, though officially they never showed the beings responsible for the put put mini golf course damage. Monique kept her tangled nine-iron golf club in her closet as a reminder to let aliens remain with the military. Once Ratchet pried it out of Skid's bumper to return it to her.

_**14. You are recording a copy of this list as it is being read.**_

_**15. You already processed at least two additions to this list.**_

"I see your Judy Witwicky swinging a baseball bat 'Bee," Hound grinned. His green armored form leaned against the hangar wall, a total pose of relaxation as always. The tropical island breeze rustled the palm branches nearby as seagulls called to each other over the Diego Garcia lagoon. He shifted slightly, tilting his green helm to the side as the women's voices rose over all the other NEST base sounds. "And up with Mikeala and a hand held cordless power saw."

"Why is that dangerous?" Cliffjumper asked. His red armored bi pedal mode barely reached Hound's knee plates. His vocal remained soft even as his optics widened in appreciation at the scene.

"That's how she got Frenzy. Name one Transformer Judy Witwicky has actually disabled. Other than threatening?" Hound countered.

"Point. I have fought those cassettes including the turbo revving punks Rumble and Frenzy. Good for Mikeala," Cliffjumper acknowledged.

"Here's another, Maggie with an attitude and a computer virus," Ratchet said. They all winced, remembering the prank against the minor twins.

"It does hold number one spot for revenge pranks this year, " Bumblebee reminded them. His yellow armored form stood beside Cliffjumper, close but not touching. "Though Monique Epps brandishing that golf club is enough for any mech to consider."

"Ace in the hole," Ironhide smirked from behind them. "Sarah Lennox. Annabelle stayed the night with Chromia and me and missed the prank. I told her to stay inside until lunchtime. Her processors shouldn't see or hear this," his black armored hand gestured towards the moving human bodies and curse words floating on the tropical breezes.

"But yours can?" Ratchet asked, drawing his jaw plates together.

"Always appreciate a good hunt and fight," the ancient weapon specialist grunted.

"Especially when you aren't the one being the hunted?" Prowl asked. His black and white wing doors fit in between Ironhide and Ratchet even as they twitched. His protocols were screaming for him to help while processors wrote out rules. His battle computer kept him still, safe alongside the others.

"I know better than to slag off a parental femme," Ironhide said.

"How long until the effects wear off?" Hound asked, tilting his helm to stare up at their chief medical officer.

"The prank will dissolve off their bodies shortly, especially with their current physical exertions. Their tempers may take a while. Your imagers aren't overheating are they Hound? Holding a hologram this size this long?" Ratchet asked. His multi faceted optics spun rapidly, checking for himself even as he waited for the answer.

"Not as long as we stay stationary. As far as the humans are concerned, we're nothing but the hangar wall," he replied after a quick system's check. "Whose idea was it to invite all the families together to the NEST base for this thanksgiving holiday?"

"His as I recall. Though I sent the actual invitations and ensured each family member had adequate travel plans to arrive on the same day," Prowl glanced up at his taller leader.

"Remind me to never do that again," Optimus ordered, pinching his nose plating with an armored hand.

"Wouldn't it be simpler to order the twins to never prank the women by adjusting their shower facilities?"

"Oh, I don't think the twins will ever do that again," Hound quipped as Sunstreaker crawled into view. Screaming, the tow chains dragged the yellow armored mech backwards towards the sounds of angry human female voices.

"Can any bot clarify why they are so angry if the effect is temporary?" Prowl asked. He wavered on his feet pads as his logic glitch threatened to trigger.

"The femmes of this world are obsessively weight conscious. Their bodies expanding and turning red and white splotched skin, while not operational dangerous, triggered the worse of their obsession," Ratchet began.

"They couldn't fit in any of the clothes they brought with them," Hound clarified.

"And group photo is later today," Bumblebee added.

"I want a photo of the twins once they're done repainting their armor," Cliffjumper said.

Major Lennox kept the incident out of the official reports as the Transformers ensured all digital records on camera phones, security base cameras and digital players accidentally destroyed themselves. The women never mentioned it and the males, mech and human alike agreed to forget it. A stealth team consisting on the Autobot scouts retrieved Sunstreaker and Sideswipe from their hiding spot before being sneaking them into the Autobot repair bay. Prowl added rules regarding holidays, pranks and the treatment of civilians. Optimus did make them apologize to the women while remaining alert for possible problems. There were none which led him to inviting everyone together for Christmas. But that is another chapter and disaster.

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4 Costumes and alt modes

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. This one time, Arcee appears as three separate bike units with a split spark but all Arcee. Chromia and Elita are their own separate femme forms apart from the three Arcee bikes. I wrote this in a matter of hours and hopefully caught all the mistakes. Optimus transform is a real one. Look up Mickey Mouse at tf wiki net to see the transform.

I do not own Transformers only borrowing them as every other writer on this site. I also do not own Superman, Van Helsing, Mickey Mouse, or other named trademarked characters. Referenced here for fun and never for profit.

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_You know you're addicted to humans when:_

_25. You spend more time choosing a Halloween costume than you did choosing an earth alt mode._

The NEST military base at Diego Garcia Island seemed merry and full of mischief as the humans prepared for Halloween. Those that could spend time with their families left days before to travel back to the United States. The rest resigned to military service and protecting the world from Decepticons and other threats celebrated on base.

SIC Prowl, after discussion with Optimus and the other command officers, allowed the one day of alt mode and armor appearances, as long as it did not affect combat capability. They gathered in Prime's official office, standing around the desk as only two Autobot size chairs existed in front of it. Unlike humans, their cables never tired like muscles and joints never locked unless they ordered them too.

"And your costume sir? Old West cowboy or Pirate again?" Prowl asked, glancing up at Prime from the datapad in his hands. He occupied the first chair, Ironhide the second. As benefitting their rank the reason, though Prowl and Optimus teased Ironhide, he got the second chair by being the oldest there and needing the chance to rest.

"Neither. Superman this year," Optimus grinned, waving a hand at his armor colors. "Same general red and blue with a few changes."

"Rule 29 of costumes, no capes. Too easy to entangle or snag in our gears and moving parts," Prowl reminded. He ignored Ironhide's vent at reciting a rule.

"The cape will be holographic. Wheeljack is finishing the image adjustments now," Optimus reassured. His memory core replayed last year's incident with Jazz and playing the human monster hunter Van Helsing. 'An exploding pumpkin, trained battle reflexes and instant shredded outfit,' Optimus winced, remembering Ratchet's choice comments on the matter.

"Third costume malfunction you've had Jazz since arriving on this planet. Hat, long coat and pants? Any other layers to wear and jam this time? Your treat and my trick," Ratchet grumbled, the pinchers on the end of his fingertips removing Cybertronian grade simulated cloth. "Next year pick an outfit without a cape, head ornamentation or related."

"Shoot, there goes playing the banana lady with the fruit hat," Jazz joked. The memory file closed, securing back away as Optimus focused on his office in the present day.

Ironhide rising to his feet pads, creaking hip gear barely audible to their sophisticated hearing ended the meeting. "If you two are done playing dress up, I got a mission to get to."

"I am assigned also and unless our chief medical officer meets us on the tarmac the mission is delayed. Moreover, I do not 'dress up' anything. Though I dress down truants and miscreants," Prowl said.

Ironhide nearly stumbled, trying to spin and look at the black and white officer. "Was that a joke? I thought only Christmas was the time for miracles. "

"Report back safely and I don't care what any bot wears. The rest of you, costume judging is tomorrow at seven a.m. in the main hangar and party at sunset. No changing alt modes or pranks until then," Optimus said as they began leaving. When the door slid shut behind his last officer, the clicking of his datapads keys filled the office. Grinning, his optics scanned the image. Ironhide wearing a pink hat with a feather on top of his head, while holding Annabelle and her tea set on his black armored palm. "Dress up indeed."

**HALLOWEEN DAY**

**NEST BASE, DIEGO GARCIA ISLAND**

In the main Autobot hangar, the costume contest continued. Those choosing not to alter their alt modes or wear holographic images watched each contestant walk, roll or glide in, often explaining their costume. Then the contestant joined the watchers as the next entry rolled, glided or walked in.

"Ladies," Jazz called, the revving of powerful engines answering. The three Arcee units rolled in, each wearing a banner across their left shoulder to tie at their hip. With another world precision, their wheeled fit moved them side to side in and around each other with barely a cable's width between their armored forms.

"I'm happily," the purple one announced.

"I'm after," the blue one stated, rolling next to the first one.

"And I'm ever," the pink Arcee bike announced.

"As in _happily ever after_!" all three chorused in unison. Aligning to roll next to each other so the phrase read left to right across their sashes. The sounds of clapping hands and whistles from the Autobots and human allies filled the air, with not one wolf whistle.

Elita smiled, pleased at their inventiveness. "Definitely a winner for most creative," she waved them to the sidelines.

"Our favorite human ambassador and chase me now Decepticon target," Jazz introduced, gesturing down as Sam walked in, smiling as they gasped. He kept walking until Bumblebee kneeled by him, his fingers twitching. The small yellow mech lifted his head and wailed.

"How could you!" Chromia translated, glaring at the human. The armored femme's fingers clenched and unclenched as though holding the grip of her favorite weapon.

"What?" Sam looked blank, running a hand across his slicked back hair. "It's James Dean, no big deal." He gestured at his boots, the dark pants, and the leather jacket.

His cell phone beeped, downloading a text message. _::__ You are wearing dead animal skin. Where is your spark? An animal died for that costume. Bumblebee:: _

"Dead? Oh, the leather. It is a jacket, a present from my roommate Leo. Looks pretty cool huh?" Sam asked then winced at the negative grumbles and high-pitched sounds from all the Transformers. The sight of his best friend Bumblebee venting and sagging on his knee gears bothered him more. "All right, the jacket goes. See?" He took it off, walking over and dropping it into the nearest trash can. "Gone, never wear it again or anything else leather okay? Didn't mean it to be a problem," he apologized.

_:: Why would you choose a young man who died in a car crash__? Have I not been the perfect Guardian?::_Bumblebee texted onto his phone.

"What?" Sam sputtered after reading it. "He was cool. You know, a rebel and all that. No Bee, do not do that. You're killing me with the weeping wipers. Fine, we can go with your idea of Jedi Knights. But no working light sabers this time. Prowl made me promise after I sliced that fire hydrant in half."

The yellow armored scout played a cheering sound, activating his hologram to show him in long brown and white robes.

"Master Bee, looking good," Jazz said, his visor flaring bright blue left to right. The silver armored scout adjusted his headpiece, his claw hand removing the gold jewel encrusted crown off his head. The holographic sword on Jazz's hip blazed the name Excalibur as he moved, the regal holographic robes moving to match his walking. Waving, he tucked the crown back into subspace as the holograms disappeared, returning to patrol around the base. Assigned to first response, his costume worn for real later at the party. Minus the cape.

"Any other contestants?" Elita consulted her datapad.

"Ratchet, Prowl and Ironhide are in their quarters, returned early this morning local time. First Aid needs only to confirm their armor retains none of the radioactive gel before releasing them among the humans. Silverbolt is flying Wheeljack to the incident site to confirm clean up there. Cover story is a long dormant volcano going active," Optimus said.

"Happens all the time on this planet, humans won't suspect a Decepticon experiment gone wrong," Chromia shrugged, moving to pass out the energon cubes from the long serving table. Oil cakes, rust sticks and other Cybertronian treats covered its surface; off limits to even touching by the humans least they accidentally injure or poison themselves. None of them realized the twins were missing.

Inside Prowl's quarters, Sunstreaker closed the side chest panel, careful to not disturb the recharging mech. His black and white form lay stretched across his recharge berth, graceful wing doors hanging to the sides. An incoming comm signal nearly sent Sunstreaker jumping off his struts. ::You done yet bro'?:: Sideswipe

::Done having a spark attack. Just finishing the seam seal now. You better have calculated how long the dormant coding will keep them under:: Sunstreaker sent, backing slowly out of the room.

:: To the astro second. Three calculations will not strain my processors. Let's roll:: Sideswipe.

Minutes later, three mech's recharge timers activated, waking them up. Morning rituals followed, each a differing routine to grab energon, report medical symptoms or lack off and use the wash racks. Ratchet left the Autobot quarters first, intent on verifying Wheeljack's report. Their Cybertronian armor protected them, earth's biological basis ensuring disaster if the contaminants got loose in a populated area. Stopping at the general hangar for both Transformer and human use, his optics scanned humans, identifying each one while comparing a general medical file.

"Morning sir," the human officer greeted him courteously, setting down the datapad on the table by his feet pads before turning smartly on his heels and leaving.

Ratchet sniffed, detecting nothing abnormal in the man's bio signature either. "Usually he runs from me. Hmm, must be loose processor chip from too much sun. These are security reports for Prowl." Venting, the large green yellow armored mech lifted the datapad, carrying it across the base. It happened by accident really. Deliberately avoiding the kitchen and commissary areas, lest his circuits fritz at the amount of sugary, unhealthy snacks consumed and prepped for later, Ratchet took the long way around the perimeter buildings towards their main hangar. Rounding the last building, he came faceplate to faceplate with himself.

"I don't remember approving you to wear my faceplate," the medic ground out as the other bot's blue optics widened.

"Why are you pretending to be me?" Prowl's vocal came out of the other's image, the shock clear in the tone.

"Don't play dumb," Ratchet jabbed a finger at him, realizing something was amiss. Prowl had a hidden sense of humor and it would not include double imaging.

"Oh slag," the other swore, facing the side of the metal hangar. Ratchet's jaw gears dropping as both their images appeared like normal, but on each other.

Fifteen minutes later, they stood before Optimus and the others in their hangar, unable to explain how it happened.

"I'm Ratchet," Prowl stated, his yellow green side jaw plates swinging as he talked. He tried crossing his arms only to snag a wrist plate on his own front guard bars from his alt mode.

"And I'm Prowl," Ratchet stated, his black and white wing doors flaring straight up with agitation.

Optimus optics rotated back and forth between them, his internal sensors confirming their unique energy signatures, his battle components to recognize them as friendly. "Your sparks?"

"Intact, as are our memory cores and processor cubes. Only our external frames are different," Ratchet reported.

"But your energy signatures," Optimus stated the obvious.

"Read reverse, we know. Only our voices indicate our true existence," Prowl stated, his faceplates mirroring Ratchet's usual unhappy look. "I have already forwarded a request to Wheeljack for expediting back to Diego Garcia."

"You are both relieved of duty until this is straightened out. And nominate you for most realistic costumes," Optimus chuckled. His large blue and red form shook with mirth as he moved away from them.

"That one is mine," Moonracer pointed at the black and white wing door mech. "I can feel his spark call to me." Her hands wrapped around his arm, feeling strange angles. ::You have to return to normal::

:: I will :: Ratchet reassured, pulling her into a half hug.

::Either that or I am never looking at you in the light again:: Moonracer teased., her fingers tracing across his lower square jaw and smooth sides.

::I can handle that:: Ratchet smirked then continued when his femme narrowed her optics. ::The light of our sparks will be enough as they merge in the darkness of our quarters:: He wiggled his eyebrow plates, Prowl's features being far more expressive than his own. Bumblebee and Sam walked in the side door, both dressed in brown and white robes carrying plastic light swords.

"Uh, did we miss something?" Sam puzzled, seeing Moonracer snuggling with Prowl and Ratchet watching them both. The medic never yelled, never threatneed and even seemed to approve of the open affection display.

Bumblebee wiped at his optics with both yellow armored fists, before shuttering his optics. Opening them, he glanced back and forth then warbled his confusion. Behind them the twins, exchanged a smirk.

:: One more change to go:: Sunstreaker sent to his red twin.

That evening, the party continued, visible on the security camera link in Optimus' office. He regretted missing the fun but his pride kept him contained.

"Sir, are you sure? The others will miss you," Prowl tried one more time. Standing outside the office door, the green and yellow armored mech understood the other's reasoning even as his own curiosity threatened to overwhelm his desire to respect his privacy. 'I am not overriding this door and getting a look. That's unprofessional,' he reasoned. But oh, how he was tempted. Enduring the day appearing as Ratchet strained his systems until he realized the humans normally running from him fearing an inspection or reprimand smiled at the medic's form. The data and actions witnessed filled a report of problems for handling, once he had his regular chassis shape back.

"Completely," Optimus baritone voice rumbled from inside his office and through the door. "I am not letting any bot see me in this state."

"Understood. You were apparently the last target. I have shared command with Ironhide until Wheeljack returns. Ratchet remains locked in his quarters with Moonracer. Is there anything you need sir?"

"No," the vocal rumbled through the door again.

Twenty minutes later, Optimus snapped up as the door opened, the sharp reprimand on his lip plates. "I said to..." It stopped the second Elita's energy signature flashed across his systems. His alt mode remained parked by his desk, the datapad in reach of his front bumper.

"Why are you in your alt mode?" She asked, her blue optics roving over his armor plating. Other than a few odd angles, his basic coloring and shape remained intact. She never moved as he began shifting, transforming up a giant mouse shape instead of his normal bi pedal mode.

"Opti mouse," he winced. "Cross reference the human cartoon character Mickey Mouse and my current form." He waited for her laughter or comment but it never came.

"I know. That's why I changed my costume," she stated calmly from the doorway.

"Your costume?" He repeated, finally looking at her. The datapad nearly slid off the desk with the force of air expelled from his intakes. His optics blazed and he distantly thought he heard the clunk of his jaw gear falling off.

"You like?" Elita smiled, one black armored hand reaching down to curl her cat's tail around her wrist. From footpad to helm, her armor was a shiny black with a single patch of white across her chest plates to her neck plating. Her normal twin side helm points reshaped to cat's ears down to the added whiskers across her angled nose plate. "Meow," she purred as she stalked towards the desk.

"Wow!" he exclaimed.

"Had to remove most my armor and subspace pullers to make the shape work but I don't think we'll be going into battle," she admitted.

"We're going to our quarters, now!" He smirked springing around the desk and grabbing her close.

"That means you like?" she purred. His lip plates pressing against hers cut off further conversation. They never made it to their quarters. The morning found them entwined in each other's arms, deeply in recharge on the office floor.

Three days later Ratchet, returned to his normal form, confirmed Elita carrying twin sparkling essences from that night. Two days after that she delivered both femmes with strong sparks. Optimus tired of hearing the jokes from 'Cat got your spark' to 'trying for a litter of sparklings' to 'he's the cat's meow of parental mechs.' He never tired of reliving the exact moment the sparkling's optics opened for the first time to focus on him.

Prowl made a chart of rules regarding altering alt modes, transforms and sneaking into personal quarters. He suspected Sideswipe and Sunstreaker but could never prove it. The morning their screams rang out, their alt modes reshaped to match Starscream and Megatron made his day. Locking the twins into the brig at their request to keep them safe until the changes undid made Prowl's week.


	5. Chapter 5 Sarah needs a new pot

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. I can truthfully say I have never tried drugs nor would I. I work too many high level security jobs that if you even _think _of messing with drugs or crime you are bounced and security clearance revoked. Little things like rent, utilities and putting food on the table are wonderful reasons why to behave. So I have no idea where this plot bunny came from other than our wonderfully confusing English language.

There is a new poll on my profile page, please vote what you would like to read more of. Reviews are love, new chapters are hugs back. Onward to getting more than what you expect.

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_**You know you're addicted to humans when:**_

_**You spend more time and mental effort picking out Christmas / birthday presents for your charges than you do writing reports for the entire year.**_

Ironhide glanced up, his blue optics refocusing outward. The magnified panel of his right arm cannon plate faded into a holding que as he listened to the phone call. Will Lennox nodded, his attention obviously more on the paperwork in front of him than his wife's voice. The ancient mech vented lightly, wanting to reprimand the human officer but didn't. There were times he had been unable to give his sparkmate full attention but at least he spared half his systems to listen and replay it later. Humans lacked recall capability, even when looking at the person as they talked.

"I scoured the counter to remove the char mark. Seriously, Will. I need a new pot. You destroyed my best two with your garage projects and what is left should be melted for scrap," her voice barely leaving the phone receiver but clear to Transformer enhanced hearing.

"Okay honey, I'll take care of it. Love you, bye."

Three days later Ironhide knew Will had forgotten his wife's request. He rumbled, the nearest soldiers dropping into defensive positions, expecting an attack. He smirked at their response, pointing towards the sun setting in the west and the faintest trace of the Cybertronian signal. Sensors confirmed what Prime had suspected, the comet landing crater old and the area empty. Empty except for faint traces of biological life. The Mojave desert an unlikely landing spot except it was empty of humans who would report the landing; though Decepticons rarely cared about who saw them.

"Only thing worse than sand," Ironhide grumbled softly, lifting a large black tread to shake more of the gritty particles out of his gears. "Is water. Slagging stuff gets in everywhere." The soldiers spaced out, weapons raised as they watched all directions except up. The temptation to yell and fire his cannons straight up to remind them of an airborne danger passed. "They'd shoot and waste the ammo. Might need it later."

"Stand down," Lennox ordered minutes later, lowering his own weapon. "Michelson, Jennings scout left. You two, right. Rest of you mark metal but hands off. Let the demolitions team clear it first. Then we can retrieve and leave. Got better things to do than play in the sand."

The long flight back to the Diego Garcia base allowed Ironhide to recharge fully with an unintended side effect. Night time found him wide awake to consider his role as protector. Not just of Will and his troops but the family he had accepted as his own. "Sarah's request carried a level of emotion I had not heard before. If Will cannot help, I must." His heavy treads across the airfield and around the buildings kept the guards alert, not that any of them would be accused of slacking off. NEST soldiers developed an obsession with expecting the unexpected to happen. A few even needing counseling after panicking when a coffee pot bubbled or a chair creaked, expecting a drone attack. His blue optics dimmed a little as he accessed the military's central computers for help.

"How many types of pots are there? Gone all to pot as in wreck or disaster. Describes Will's attempt to cook oatmeal joors back. Worthless fire alarm. All it did was make slagging noise instead of putting out the fire. Couldn't transform to do its job? Inferior human parts, no extinguisher gel, no opening of emergency doors. What type of safety device is that?" he noted an unlocked door on a nearby weapons bunker, sending a digital message to the night watch to secure it. "Pitiful locks. My smallest leaser could burn through that wall and dangerous? Hah. Bullets are more annoying than damaging." Continuing walking, he stepped over a armored personnel carrier before ambling towards the lagoon side of the base.

"Pothole, damage to a road. No mention of a kitchen," he rumbled softly, at least knowing what to call the flaws in the pavement. "Pot to throw out a window. Negative, the farm has indoor plumbing and this describes a lack of money. Pot calling the kettle black. They speak? Hmm. Phrase might come in handy. Potluck. Ah, finally. Food related." The black armored mech paused, his files on food extremely limited. Humans ate it, complained about it and wanted more of it. Ratchet raved about unhealthy it could be and Optimus banned the humans from eating it inside their alt modes. The rest was inconsequential compared to the need for training humans to stay out from under his feet pads. "Slag it. I need human help on this. Junior Supply Officer should do."

Ironhide found the man not in the storage hangars or his office but the far dock, unloading a small boat. The boxes neatly stacked under the tarp bearing no official seals or indicators of their contents. The alien mech ignored them, detecting no explosives or relevant energy signatures. "Can you help me?"

"With?" The human asked, stuck between diving in the water and risking sharks eating him or the alien mech hauling him to the brig for illegal shipments. The safety of the brig won out.

"I need a good pot."

"Hey, no problem! I can get the best around. Didn't think you would be in to that type stuff being mechanical and all." Laughing he relaxed. This was his area of expertise, providing soldiers with those comforts the higher brass banned. A good businessman, he always looked for ways to expand and supplying car parts or fluids could work out profitably.

"It's for a human...friend." Ironhide hesitated, the word friend too casual yet English lacked the complicated Cybertronian concept of Guardian and charges. And the human's obsessions with genders and relationships made him wary of identifying a human femme as the one needing his help. Especially when her own sparkmate did not take the request seriously enough.

"Sure, right. The pot is for a...friend. Rolled or seeded?"

"Unknown. For use in the kitchen."

"Cook with, that's cool too. Any particular type? Maui woolie? Mexican green?"

"American made?" Ironhide offered, cross referencing the fierce pride the American soldiers referred to their homes and existences.

"Hawaii it is. And fresh right? No old, stored stuff for you? Meet me at the shipping hangar, southwest side tomorrow at this time and I'll get you what you need."

Tucked in one of his subspace fields, Ironhide kept it hid as a surprise during the flight off island. Finally granted leave time, Will Lennox was heading home to his family, a certain black mech accompanying him. The long trip was uneventful and the greeting awaiting them made every second worth it. Annabelle's high pitch squeal of delight and "Hide!" made his spark glad. Sarah grabbed her husband into the house and upstairs, trusting Ironhide better than any babysitter.

It was the next morning that he pulled it out of subspace, carefully sitting it on the porch. Sounds coming from the house indicated Sarah moving around the kitchen, making coffee. Any second and she would come out to look at the sunrise, a ritual he approved of. Seeing the day's new light reassured the spark and help set the processors, even if humans didn't absorb solar energy as a side fueling.

The front porch door opened and he stood, arms back, black chest plates proudly pushed out as she nearly collided with it. "This is for you."

"Ironhide," Sarah blinked, trying to keep from looking like a fish gasping as she breathed rapidly in and out. "Why?"

"You said you needed a new pot for your kitchen. The supply officer on base stated this was the best that could be secured."

"A pot? But this is...oh." Then she giggled, suddenly understanding. The tall four leafed plant moved in the morning breeze, as Sarah circled it. "Thank you for the gift. You really shouldn't have," she said, before moving back inside and right up the stairs to their bedroom.

"William Lennox! What type of soldiers do you command!"

Sputtering, fumbling for a gun he didn't have, the startled officer reacted as any ranger would. "Army strong? Why?"

"Ironhide just gave me a pot plant," Sarah stated, hands on hips as she glared at her husband.

"A what?" he yawned, the last of the sleepiness leaving him. He did pull the covers around his naked body as he shifted to a more upright position. Not for modesty but an instinctive protective covering of vital body parts from an enraged mate.

"A marijuana plant because he thought that is what I meant when I told you to bring home a new pot. Which you failed to do. Now you can deal with this."

"He did? A real one?"

"Not holographic with those leaves dear," she glared, the sarcasm in her tone clear.

"I'll have a talk with him," he sighed, attempting to smooth his hair down then quit. Alien robots didn't care about ruffled hair and his wife would probably boot his butt down the stairs if he didn't get moving. Ironhide felt sheepish once an internet search confirmed the mistake. Will laughed until he realized it mean reports and paperwork to document the incident on base. The best part was telling Ironhide he got a reward check from the Pentagon for helping stop illegal trading. Nobody needed to ask what he intended to use the money for.

LENNOX FARM

The sound of the doorbell brought two reactions. Annabelle hiding around the big chair, ready to bolt for the hidden slide in the closet in case it was a meanie robot. Sarah, swearing before throwing the small pan and the blackened cornstarch pudding into the sink. "Be right there!" Wiping her hands on the apron, she glanced at the monitor display before pushing on the frame, turning it back into a picture of her family. A gift from Ironhide, it ensured the door opened only when she wanted it to. The offer of armor reinforcing the walls of the farmhouse refused, more than once.

"FedEx, special delivery," the man at the door began, hesitating before reading off the shipping tag. "for Femme Lennox from big guns. Husband military?"

"How'd you guess?' She teased, knowing pictures of Will in his uniforms, complete with service medals hung in the hallway where they stood. The fact a certain black GMC top kick vehicle was also in them was rarely noticed by outsiders.

"Three boxes for you ma'am. Calphalon cookware set. Sign here," he offered her the signature tablet, lifting the boxes over the threshold.

"Can we have spaghetti? I like that," Annabelle asked, suddenly appearing in the hallway. Delivery guys were okay and sometimes even carried candy. Once mommy approved it as safe to eat.

"Yes, after I make a phone call to thank a certain mech. Annabelle, honey no running. Especially on the stairs! Where are you going?" She closed the front door, stepping out and around the boxes.

"To make my birthday list. I need some plastic dishes for my dollies," she explained, pausing on the top landing.

"NO!"

"But mommy," she started back down the stairs, her shoulders dropping and the lower lip pouting.

"No lists for Ironhide. Daddy and I will give him your lists," Sarah stated in her best I'm the mommy and this is the law voice.

"Okay. But can I ask for what I really want?"

Visions of miniature cannons and interstellar communication satellites followed by armored suits and giant sized play buildings filled her thoughts. Worse, the Autobots would probably give her daughter those things even without a list. All Sarah needed was a quantum atomizer exploding in the backyard to enlighten the next family reunion. "Which is sweetie?"

"Daddy and 'Hide home safe with us."

_to be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6 Toys and a black armored mech

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews. I know it has been a bit since I posted and I apologize for that. My ideas have been working over time, my schedule to type out those ideas and post has not. And I realized that as a writer I had restricted myself with a pattern that won't work. Instead of trying to create a story to fit the sequence of the rules, I am going to post a chapter or part that fits the theme of this fic rather than straight lining through the rules. This is about mechanical aliens dealing with humans, either ones they value as their own families like Annabelle or Sam or human culture in general. And the fun that creates. Posts might be shorter _but far more often_ than they have been. Enjoy!

TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TF TRANSFORMERS

_You know you're addicted to humans when:_

_1. Your spare leg carry panel contains bottled water, three types of snack bars, a bag of chips, and two of Annabelle's toys. Unless you are Ironhide and it's all toys on the right side, healthy food and water on the left."_

The mare under his legs heaved forward, adding yet more speed. The wind whipped by his black armor, whistling like incoming weapons fire. Only no enemies stood in his way, no dying world of rusted slagged metal flew by but an open plain in its vast reach of golden sand and dotted bushes. Crouched low on her neck, his armored hands tightened on her mane, silently urging her to even greater speed. Sage brush became a blur, the scream of an eagle over head lost in the whistle of the wind. Her metal hooves pounded across the landscape, thundering down like vengeance itself. He adjusted, systems compensating for the weight change as she leaped the canyon edge, landing on the other side before rocketing forward. This was how a true warrior lived. Defiant in his courage, free in his choices.

::Barricade! Answer!:: Megatron's comm signal slammed into him with the force of an ion blast. Shuttering his optics, the black and white armored shock trooper refocused. The plain gray walls of his room replaced yellow sands, the blazing sun dimming to indoor lighting of the Decepticon base.

::Yes Lord Megatron?:: His mental tone at least sounded normal, even as his cooling fans whirred. Had he been caught?

::Do you ever answer the intercom? We've been paging you for half a breem! Even Starscream answered quicker than that!:: Megatron

::I was...:: Barricade hesitated while wincing, trying to find the right words. Rule Five of their code of conduct rolled past his optics. _"Decepticons shall not waste their time on toys or play things. We are conquerors of the universe and inferior objects are beneath our time and energy. _His secret was safe, for now. What he cradled against his chest plate would not be confiscated and smashed, yet. Soon? Not in pit if he had a chance. He'd defect to being a neutral before giving her up. But an upset Megatron meant potential discovery if not handled carefully. ::Recalibrating my weapons locks. Subsonic precision that could not be disturbed::

::Good. You will need them shortly. The human convoy is moving as I predicted. Report to the main entrance and meet up with Ravage and Scorponok to prepare for attack. They are already there:: Megatron snapped the frequency closed, no other words needed.

"It's Ironhide's fault," Barricade muttered into the empty room, his black armored claws carefully gathering the other little pony shapes to one area to be subspaced. "If he hadn't lost these in that attack, I would never have known what they were."

Memory cores flashed open, replaying the terrible fight, neither black armored warrior giving until the chance slash across the weapon's specialist hip armor. The single panel slicing into two, part of it falling away to release a torrent of little shapes. Had he known then, Barricade would never have picked them up after that battle, determining to understand their value at a later date. After all, anything the weapon specialist carried should have had military value. He could not have known they were considered child's play things, unworthy of a Decepticon trooper. Yet the more he studied the small shapes, the more intrigued he got. "Little ponies, each painted differently." Scooped into subspace, they now lay behind a stock of shock grenades in his leg panel. Any bot attempting to steal them would lose a hand, or claws or whatever happened to be on the end of their arm. "But this one," Barricade smiled at the black and purple figure.

She was his favorite, the one he rode in his visions. Metal hooves crushing all beneath her mass, her purple mane and tail flowing like a banner of death as her red eyes mercilessly targeted the weak and inferior. The Decepticon symbol on her right quarter the proud sign of her lineage. The little pony had been painted as an Autobot with blue hooves, bright blue eyes and a red mane with the symbol he hated but a few minutes of his time and paint and now she stood proud. A symbiont worthy of his existence. Carefully, he grasped the shape with his main claws, lifting her up. Balancing on the only shelf in the room, she faced outward as though guarding until his return. He never looked back, marching out the doors to meet the raiding party.

Three minutes later the door slid open. "Barricade! You got yer lazy aft in here? Soundwave says to report to," Rumble began, walking through the doors, unafraid. Barricade treasured his privacy and mechs wound up on their afts back in the hallway, armor smoking or dented from disturbing him. But any action against Rumble, or his fellow Cassettes carried the same danger as attacking his symbiont boss, Soundwave. Even Starscream wasn't that dumb. "Not here. Figures. I walk all the way down the corridor for nothing! What is that?" Red optics focused on the little figure. Intrigued, he jumped onto the recharge berth to take it with him. "Perhaps Lazerbeak will know. Nah. I'll keep it for now. Research it myself. Hmm, Barricade might miss it. Better make a copy and put this one back. Why should he get all the good stuff?"

_to be continued..._

_Author's Note: I could not resist the image of Barricade playing with a Decepticon my Little Pony figure. Annabelle would have had them, carried by Ironhide then stolen after a battle. It was painted as an Autobot one before Barricade changed it._


End file.
